Morbidly Married
by LemonySnickersBars
Summary: Alice and Jasper are about to lose their funeral home and end up in the poor house. What other choice do they have other than making business? Gore, raucous love making, and heaps of macabre fun :
1. Morbidly Married

**Summary: Jasper and Alice Whitlock are professionals in a dying art. They live in, and own a funeral home in the cold center of Seattle. When the economy crashes, they're threatened to get put out on the street. Desperate for cash, the duo resolve to create more business for themselves. This is one home everyone is dying to to enter :)**

**A/N: So this is what Morbid Curiosity was originally. Since I went insane, and totally Jasper Alice, and not Bella Edward, I've decided to let it out of the closet. This story's going to be pretty graphic, and sort of sick. That's the point though. Please love it. I'll be updating Morbid Curiosity soon too. I hope you like the puns in the summary ;)**

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**Morbidly Married**

Foreclosure.

That word has struck fear into the hearts of millions, especially lately. And that was the word we were facing now. Foreclosure. The liquidation of all we had accomplished. All we had striven to gain. Years of reputation, and back breaking work all boiled down to this. The decline in the economy was driving us into the ground, and there was nothing we could do. Why?

Although the suicide rate had gone up quite dramatically since the crash, no one could afford nice, expensive funerals. Everyone just got cremated and sent to their loved ones in a Zip-lock baggie. No caskets sold, no flowers bought, no embalming expenses, hall rentals, minister fees, tiny sandwiches, sappy greeting cards, burial singers, crane operators... and no money for my husband and I.

Jasper was pacing again, to the dark swirling staircase, and then back to the double oak doors. He had the horrid pink sheet of paper gripped in his left hand, right hand running through his already stressed hair. We were both in our dress clothes. Him in a black suit with a blood red tie, and myself in a black dress with a lace neck. From my seat on the floral couch I could see every tendon in Jasper's hand flex as he got to the part at the bottom. The part where it politely told us to get our creepy asses out unless we paid the bank.

"Shit." Jasper said quietly. He then crumpled the paper up with one hand, and threw it into the waste basket in the office beside him. That little wire trash can had held a lot more of those papers, ranging from blue, to yellow, to orange. Pink was an all new type of bad.

Jasper sat down next to me, thumping the couch back an inch. He sat on the very edge, balling his pale fists in his honey blond hair. There was no way to mistake this for anything but stress and despair. This had been a bad day from the start.

When I woke up the milk had gone bad in the fridge and I'd had no coffee cream. Then when I went to dissect Ms. Robinson, I found maggots in her stomach. After that, Jasper received a call from the hospital saying Madame Torricelli was revived in the morgue by an attentive intern. That made it all the worse. That old bat was loaded! And then there was this.

We were on our way out of the house to go to a meet and greet with a future client when we found the horrid sheet. A note from City-Wide Financial saying we were in foreclosure. I was just waiting for a piano to fall from the sky and knock my head in through my ass.

Jasper sighed heavily, as I rubbed soothing circles on his back. He was making his angry face. I didn't like it when he made his angry face.

"Sweetie, don't worry. It'll all work out." I lied. There was no way this was going to end well. I'd been imagining myself living in a cardboard box for months. People just didn't die like they used to. Not the wealthy ones at least. We were going under. After years of college and university, this was how it was going to end. Bankrupt.

Jasper angled his body toward me and tried to smile. It didn't reach his eyes, or even his nose. He could feel the bad times rolling in as well. It started slowly. Every month there would be a couple less funerals, until finally there was about three or four a month. A month! There was no way we were going to make it. Our home, and business would be seized by the bank in mere weeks. This was the edge of the abyss.

"Yeah." Jasper said almost mutely. "I'm sure it'll be fine." He smiled palely again, and gave me a hug and a peck on the cheek. Even his voice, still evident with a southern accent, was weak. "I love you, Alice."

"I love you, too." I said, and stood up. "Come on. Let's go get drunk."

Jasper stood up, and we went into the kitchen, ignoring our appointment. I pulled out the vodka from under the counter, and Jasper grabbed some orange juice. We both mixed them together into shots, and lined five each up at the table. Jasper slipped off his jacket and undid the top couple of buttons on his starched dress shirt. I took out my earrings, and slipped out of my shoes, stretching my toes. Both of our hands met the shot glasses at the same time.

Jasper smiled, really smiled, for the first time in a long time. "One, two, three!"

--

"So... we're toad-alley fucked, eh pumpkin?" Jasper slurred with a crooked smile. Or at least I thought it was crooked. Maybe the room was crooked, and he was straight.

"Oh yeah..." I sighed, my shoulder holding my head up. My neck felt like a pipe cleaner, all bendy. So I had to keep it this way. "So screwed! Sugar muffin, give me tha cookie dough."

Jasper laughed, and handed me the mauled stick of Pillsbury. I took a bite out of the end, getting more plastic than dough. But I ate it anyway. "You now, people jus' don't die like they used too, Alice. Hah! You have lice in your name."

I laughed too, until I started crying. And then when I was crying I couldn't stop. There was so much going wrong with everything. The tears just came out instead of words.

"No, no. Alice, bay-bee!" Jasper was at my side, empty vodka bottle in his left hand. He sure smelt like he lived on the streets. "Sweed-dee! Please stop cryin'. I love you!"

"I love you too!" I wailed, and fell out of my chair onto him. He fell backwards onto the floor, and hit his head off the counter.

"Jesus!" He shouted. I found his lips, and started kissing him. Big, sloppy, drunken, mortician kisses. He grabbed my butt, and I pulled his hair. Then the nausea hit. We pulled apart, and I threw up all over his shirt. Then I started crying again."Alice, stop." Jasper said, sounding a little less drunk, but still pretty damn drunk.

"I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry!" I all but screamed. He pet my hair down."I'm sorry we're going broke. I'm sorry we're poor. I'm sorry about your premature ejaculation syndrome. I'm sorry about everything. But rich people jus' don't die on their own anymore!"

Jasper was really silent. "You're right." He said somberly. "They don't."

I started crying again, but not as hard. Jasper didn't speak. He just pet my hair, stopping only once to throw up into the garbage can. Eventually, I started to fall asleep. My eyes started to droop, and my breathing became a snore. Sometime I guess I realized Jasper was rolling me off. He was still drunk, obviously. A sober Jasper would never roll a lady into puke.

He must have picked me up, but I didn't notice. I knew when we were on the stairs because he bounced my head off the banister. And then I was on my nice, soft down bed. The one the bank wanted to take away from me. Asleep. After that, I was asleep.

--

Morning came. I woke up in dried puke at three in the morning. Jasper wasn't in his spot next to me on the bed, or even sitting by the bay window near the closet, smoking.

I went into the bathroom and looked at myself. Vomit covered my shoulder, and half my face. This dress was ruined... unless I cleaned it. There were two dark purple rings under my eyes to accompany my dull headache. This sucked.

Showering was a must, so I got that out of the way. The water had to stay on lukewarm whenever we showered because the heaters in the basement were close to the body locker. It wasn't like we kept much in there these days. Just an unfinshed Ms. Robinson on the white slab in the prep room. After seeing those maggots I had been to fed up to drain her. That was second on the list. Well, third. Jasper was important too.

Downstairs in my robe, I began the search for my beloved bankrupt husband. There was nothing in the kitchen, not even vomit. It looked like we'd had a clean night, other than the puke I got on myself. The living room, study, office and visitation room were empty too. Where was he? I looked in the car. Our crappy Subaru was parked next to the black hearse as always. Weird.

I turned the lights on in the little room at the back of the garage. The one with the casket lift. There was a radio playing down in the prep room.

"Jasper?" I called.

"Down here!" He replied. He was prepping Ms. Robinson! God I loved my husband.

I decided against taking the stairs, and stood on the edge of the casket lift. The little green light switched on, and I pressed the button. It slowly brought me down to the basement floor. Oh the beauty of being lazy.

Through another door was the body locker, and then after that was the prep room. The prep room led into the casket show room. Jasper stood beside the white slab, his little table of tools at his side. He turned around to smile at me, and wave one blue gloved hand.

"Morning sleepy head." He grinned. "I got rid of the maggots for you."

"Thanks." I yawned, and kissed him on the cheek. There was no way I was getting old blood on my good robe.

I sat down on the sterile white chair in the corner, and rubbed my hand over my eyes. Ms. Robinson lay cold, gray, and naked on the table in front of me. Her lips were sewn shut, making her look silent and peaceful despite the steady sound of her blood draining from the tube in her neck into the bucket at Jasper's feet. It took only four minutes to drain the whole body. It was putting the embalming fluid in that was hard.

Jasper was looking at me, wearing only a thin silk robe. It was _that _look.

We'd had sex in the prep room a couple of times, but never when someone was in with us, and we always sterilized after.

"No. I have a hangover." I stated plainly. He shrugged, his gray eyes impassive.

"I didn't say anything." Jasper smiled to himself. What was up with him?

"Why are you in such a good mood?" I finally asked.

"Oh, no reason." There was definitely a reason. His perfect lips were still smirking.

"No, seriously. Why are you so happy?"

No response. I hated it when Jasper was coy. When we'd first met in college, he had become my friend instantly, but whenever I asked him if he thought I'd make a good date, he'd shrug. By the time we finally went on our first date, I'd wanted to chop his shoulders off.

"Let's just say we don't have to worry about our money troubles any more." He said, and roughly pulled the inch long spike of metal from Ms. Robinson's jugular.

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**So feedback. What do you think? Like it? Lump it? Want to hump it? No, don't do that last one. I think I like this, but I need someone to agree. Thanks! **

**Stevie**


	2. Master Plan

**A/N: Hey! Weak feed back you guys! Not cool! But I'm not going to really complain on that. So here's the deal. I want to add another chapter to this because I feel that it deserves that much. Don't you? So here it goes. I hope you all like this as well. **

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**Master Plan**

Jasper didn't speak about anything for the rest of the day. I begged and begged him to tell me his big plan, but he just wouldn't budge. The ends I went to to get the answer of it him hit an all time low by two-thirty. That's equivalent to dinner time when you wake up at three in the morning. Jasper had gone out to the hardware store as part of his brilliant plan, that I was starting to doubt. What could possible save us from bankruptcy at a hardware store? Was he going to steal a hammer and nail an eviction notice on the banks door? Besides, he'd been gone for hours. Was he building the store before he shopped in it?

That didn't matter. What mattered was the low I was sinking to.

The funeral for Ms. Robinson was the next day, so we had the house to ourselves for the night, like the night before, and the night before that. The point was that I was making dinner, which I never do, if I've digressed too much from the point. It was Jasper's favorite meal, other than Kraft Dinner and hot dog wieners. Lasagna. You could really smell it, all saucy and tomato full. I liked it too, but Jasper went nuts, like the freaking Trix Rabbit, Garfield, and the Coco Puff bird thing combined into man form.

I straightened my hair up in the downstairs bathroom mirror. It was the one with the handicap railing and thin as tracing paper T.P. The front door opened just as I finished spiking the ends of my hair, and a happy whistle rang through the big main lobby.

"Alice!" Jasper began to speak, but then he must have taken in a good smell. "Damn it!" I heard him hiss, and I grinned.

"Hey, honey!" I answered coolly, walking out to greet him. He had a little yellow bag clutched in his hands. "I thought since you've had such a break through financially, I'd make you your favorite."

"Why not make Kraft Dinner with the little cut up wieners?" He said under his breath. "Is that...?"

"Yep."

"When will it be ready?!" He asked a little harshly. My grin stretched wider.

"As soon as you decide to tell me your plan, I'll take it out of the oven." I put my arms around his shoulder, and kissed him on the cheek. It looked ashen, like he had just seen a dead body or something.

"Alice... this isn't really dinner conversation." He held on to the bag tighter.

"Oh, alright. Then how about you tell me what's in the bag?" As I spoke, I tried to stealthily take the bag. He pulled it away before I could.

"A map." Jasper replied, his tone steely. "Why?"

"You were gone for three hours for a map?!" I cried. "They sell them at the gas station! Why did you need to go the the hardware store for that?! A...Are you cheating on me with a rich woman?!"

Jasper's jaw dropped open, and an outraged, if not girlishly shrill "No!" came out.

"Then where were you, and what's your plan?!"

This was starting to get under my skin. Jasper took a slow breath and closed his eyes. It was his thinking face, much different from the angry face, not to different from the sleepy face, and miles away from the orgasm face... which usually came before he even got his pants off. My poor little thirteen year old.

Jasper seemed to make some sort of resolve. He enveloped me in his arms, and smelt my hair, before pulling away. I looked into those smoldering gray eyes, and brushed his messy honey hair with my hands. He looked so distraught, and yet decided. One thing about Jasper was his need to follow through. If he decided to do anything, the compulsion to finish what he started would take over, and end with the result he'd envisioned in the beginning. And this didn't look good.

"You know I love you more than anything, right?" He said. There was something so needy in those eyes, like his life hung in the balance of my answer.

"Yes."

"And you know that I would do anything for you to make you happy and keep you safe, don't you?" The same raw plead was there, like he needed to have my full admission of faith in him. Whatever it was he had planned was serious. There were no Lemonade stands or McDonald drive- through jobs in Jasper's world. He wanted us out of debt, and he wouldn't rest until that was fulfilled.

"I do, Jasper." I said, brushing my fingertips along the side of his perfectly smooth face. Jasper exhaled on an angle, blowing his hair up.

"Okay. I promise to tell you after dinner." He smiled brightly, and sidestepped by me.

"No!" I cried, and chased after him. It wasn't a fair race. He was so much faster. By the time I got to the kitchen, he'd already gotten oven mitts. I gave up and sat down at the preset table. Jasper set the lasagna down on the pot holder, and grabbed a spatula. As you can imagine, we had steady hands. The steaming pasta was cut into perfect squares in mere seconds.

Jasper dug into his food like he hadn't eaten in a month, like always. But there was something new in the air at that meal. Something we hadn't felt in months. A sort of twisted hope. I took my own dinner out of the pan and sighed. Whatever plan Jasper had made, no matter how insane, I would go along with it.

That's what wives are for, right?

--

Pacing again, but not in the lobby this time. We were in our bedroom, stomachs full of lasagna that I thought was going to make a reappearance. There was something nerve wracking about the way he was. Every few minutes he'd spare a glance at me, and his pacing would get faster. That was how he thought. It was always how he thought. And how he dealt with nerves. Even though we'd been married for three years, he still found it hard to talk about his ideas with me. Jasper was terribly shy.

I played idly with the hem of my t-shirt, trying to pull a loose thread out, and look natural. Our room was dark in color, deep brown walls, and wooden panels with a big bed with deep red sheets. The rushing water from the river outside echoed up through our window, and created the most romantic atmosphere on most nights. But at that moment it was simply begging me to throw up. The water was practically screaming 'throw up! THROW UP!' The walls were telling me that dark days laid ahead. And the sheets... well they were just a good deal. $43. 50, and they came with little tassel pillows.

Jasper finally stopped pacing, and sat down on the soft wine colored ottoman. He looked at me with a slightly green face. His nervous face.

"What's our problem, Alice?" Jasper finally asked, looking me square in the eyes. "Why are we going under?"

"You know why." I said with a frown. "No one wants a funeral anymore. They can't afford it."

Jasper nodded, pausing pensively for a moment. There was something in that moment that snapped him into something else. A thought, a memory, an idea... I don't know. And maybe I never will. But in that second, the Jasper I knew changed. He wasn't gone, but there was something different about him. Something desperate and dark.

"They can't afford it... but who are they? What business are we drawing? Little old cat ladies with rotting lettuce in their stomachs. But where is the money in this business?" Jasper stood up and sat down next to me on the bed, taking both of my hands. I was confused, and not only that, but a little afraid.

"Jasper... you're scaring me." I managed. His eyes were a little glazed. Wild. He'd reached a breaking point. I could tell that.

"Maybe that's what we need! To be a little scarier." He chuckled to himself, but it sounded wrong. "Alice, all we need to do is fix the place up, and advertise in the rich neighborhoods."

He smiled, and the dimension seemed to slowly draw back. But that wasn't his plan. That wasn't half of it. The crazy slowly seeped back into his eyes, and my stomach clenched harshly.

"But..."

"But what, Jasper?" I asked sharply. There was no more hedging. I needed to know what he was planning. There was something so wrong about this. It couldn't be that easy.

He knew it. Our fingers intertwined, and he exhaled loudly. "You know as well as I do that the rich don't die on their own anymore."

Oh dear God.

I pulled my hands away from Jasper and jumped up. He stared at me with a cool casual that was even worse than the insanity. My eyes were wide and nearly tearing. He couldn't be serious. There was no way my Jasper would ever even consider what I thought he meant. But then again, that would be exactly something Jasper would do. When it came to protecting the one he loved, Jasper would climb mountains, swim oceans, walk a mile on coals... who was to say he wouldn't think of something as drastic as this to keep his queen in her castle?

"What are you suggesting?" I barely whispered. He stood up, and wrapped his arms around me, pressing his forehead against mine. His breath fanned over me, smelling like sauce and stale cigarettes, but still familiar and wonderful. Slowly, Jasper's mouth met mine. He held me tight, his hand in my hair. And then he pulled back, forehead to forehead again.

"I love you more than anything, darling. I'd sell my soul to Lucifer himself if it meant you wouldn't have to give up your home. And if that's what I have to do, that's what I have to do."

That was a promise that he meant to keep.

"You want us to... kill people?" I choked. Jasper frowned, rubbing circles on my back. I was so small next to him. So insignificant. He would do anything for me, and I for him. Anything. That's what it boiled down to. Not the money.

"I don't want you to do anything. Just say the word, and I'll do it. Tell me not to, and I won't." He smiled and added, "Or say nothing and I'll do it anyways."

There was a long moment where I was at a loss for words. This was insanity incarnate. There was no way I could let my love become a murderer for me. But it seemed so logical in some respects. Sure, we could just get other jobs, but the job market was so wire tight at the moment. And nothing we could get could save the house. Not only that, but we were morticians. That was our calling. To do anything else would be like a fish in a desert, or a construction worker in a beauty parlor. A writer doing your taxes. One thing was certain. If saving our business meant getting blood on our hands in both ways, then that was how it was going to be. Both our hands. Jasper wouldn't do this alone.

"Okay."

"Pardon?" Jasper asked, his voice sounding a little nervous. It had been minutes since I'd said anything at all, and we'd ended up lying on the bed, me on his chest. I took a deep breath, and reached up to kiss him.

The kiss quickly grew as Jasper laid one of his hands on my face, and the other on the small of my back. I raked my hands through his hair, and deepened the kiss. I needed him to know I was with him all the way. If he climbed a mountain, I'd climb it too. If he swam an ocean, I'd be right there beside him. And if he killed a man, I'd clean up the mess.

My shirt slid up my stomach, and so did Jasper's. He rolled over so he was on top of me, being careful not to put any of his weight on me. My leg slid up over his, and he grabbed it behind the knee to hold it there. Finally, we broke apart.

"I'll do it." I gasped, trying to catch the breaths I'd forgotten to take. "You're not doing it alone."

"Alice..." He trailed, meeting my eyes with unrestrained concern. "It's not safe."

"I don't care." I looked down, and twisted my ring on my finger. "When you gave me this, I vowed to be with you forever, through anything, in life, and death."

Jasper looked at his own wedding ring on his slender pale finger. I took his hand, and intertwined it with my own. "Forever." He said.

I kissed him again, trying to communicate how perfect we were together. Perfect matches. Soul mates. No matter what happened, I would stick by his side. He could feel it, and tried just as hard to return the feeling. We finally broke apart. Eyes glazed. My full focus was on his fair face. Wide eyes, pink lips, never any stubble... just like an angel. He ran his fingertips from my cheekbones to my chin.

"Forever." I agreed.

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**Review! I hope you enjoy it! No, Jasper didn't go insane. He just loves Alice enough to kill for her if you didn't catch that. Well, maybe they're both a little crazy, but it makes it all the better that they are. **

**I'm going to go pee now. Goodnight Toronto!**


	3. Death and Other Sad Businesses

A/N: _The first paragraph of the last chapter was being stupid, and kept messing up on me. No, I'm not a retard, it's my keyboard. It wouldn't erase the mistakes, and kept putting in the wrong letters. So stupid, right? Anyways, if I don't update for a while, it's because I'm swamped with something, not because I'm giving up. If I give up I'll simply say 'I GIVE UP!' or something a little more colorful. Here's the next chapter. I don't know if it's too short or not. I haven't written it yet :) Happy Good Friday! Well wishes to all!_

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**Death and Other Sad Businesses**

Julia Robinson was a crier. A class D crier, but a crier at that. Ever since she'd entered the home, her thin party trailing gloomily behind her, I'd sensed the inevitability that she would sob until her fake blond hair fell out. As Jasper greeted the guests, I'd run to the storage cupboard and grabbed more rough Kleenex to put in the viewing room.

Now Julia rested her head on my husbands arm, tears soaking his jacket. Her husband, Ronald, hadn't been able to make it to Seattle for the funeral. The rest of the party was gathered around Ms. Robinson's corpse, tears running down their faces as well. But none like Julia Robinson. I was starting to wonder if the birdlike 40 something year old was just putting on an act to get closer to my husband. It wasn't working, of course. Jasper was tear-proof.

He shot me a stressed look from across the room, and I gave him a short nod in response. Julia didn't hear me as I drifted behind her and placed one of my hands on her shoulder. She looked back at me and Jasper receded to the corner, then disappeared into the office. Julia's crying seemed to slow as she noticed Jasper was gone. She went from an A class crier to a D class once again.

"If it's any consolation," I said soothingly, "you're mother went peacefully."

That was a lie. Ms. Robinson had died of a violent allergic reaction to cashews. Her throat swelled shut, causing her to run around the house for at least three minutes, struggling for air. She'd shoved a pen down her throat to try to get airflow again with no success. With difficulty she'd crawled to the front door to get help from a neighbor, but had fallen down before she reached the door, causing her to hit her head off of a table. The table lamp, which was turned on, had fallen onto her. She couldn't move from the fall, which had damaged her spine. For her last minute on Earth she'd felt not only the horrors of suffocation, but the lamps hot light bulb had singed into her flesh. Then, because Julia thought she was too important for her poor mother, she'd been left to rot for two days. Luckily the smell had clued a neighbor in to call the police. The fact of the matter was that Ms Robinson had died a horrible and painful death. But it was my job to shield Julia from the truth.

I watched Julia cry, her tears smearing her mascara, and made my judgment. She wasn't sad about her mothers death. Even if she had known how ghastly the poor cat lady's demise was, she wouldn't have truly felt bad about it. Julia was more concerned with herself. She felt guilt at how she hadn't said goodbye to her mother, and how horrible she'd been. But if she was given the chance to have her mother back, would she take it?

No.

My mother had died when I was seven. She'd tripped on one of my stuffed animals and fallen down three flights of stairs. That incident obviously made an impact on me. I would sell my soul to have her back. Julia wouldn't. There was a difference.

I felt sorry for Ms Robinson, but not for her daughter. When you lose someone you love, you shouldn't care about nothing except _yourself _and how _you're_ going to get over it.

"Thank you." Julia finally said. "I hope you're right."

_I'm not_, I thought. _And neither are you._

---

"Okay, are you ready?" I asked. Jasper looked at me and solemnly nodded.

"I think so. Just one second."He replied, putting on his 'I'm going to climb a mountain' face. "I have the pregame jitters."

I rolled my eyes. This was his idea. Why was it that he always made the plans, and I was always the one who followed through first? It was so annoying!

"Come on. You said you wanted to do this."

"I do, I do!" Jasper agreed, rolling his shoulders. He put his head down and took deep breaths. "Okay. I'm ready."

The mansion that stood in front of us was gluttony incarnate. From the prim manicured lawn to the restored Elizabethan wannabe columns to the million dollar cars parked behind the electric steel fence. And inside this palace of expense sat one man. The only person who lived here. James Milan, the notoriously rich card shark and actor. Or as he would be forever known afterward, our first victim.

We'd planned this well, extremely well, over the past two weeks. The planning was alright. Illegal, but still alright. At first it was a little awkward, contemplating murder with him. After a while it got easier. By the end it was even a little fun. But now, staring at the mansion, it was almost to terrifying to even consider. As much as I razzed Jasper, I was just as nervous.

"Okay. When I give the signal." I said, and took a deep breath. Jasper nodded, and slipped into the dark, while I straightened my dress. It was sparkly and showed enough skin to count as lingerie.

I pressed the little blue button on the gates intercom, then waited for a moment. Right about now James would be heading to the similar looking keypad inside, but this one didn't have the screen connected to the camera that would be showing me. There was a moment of silence, and then a voice.

"Hey." The voice was smooth, and sly. James. I smiled innocently and said the lines I'd been practicing for weeks.

"Hello. I'm Laura Bennett from Bennett jewelers. We received a call that you wanted a representative to look at your jewels?" That line was priceless. Jasper had written my little script, it was plain to see.

"Huh... I don't remember calling, but I suppose you could take a look at my jewels." James said. I could almost hear the smirk.

There was a buzz, and the gates swung open. Triumphantly, I made my way over the lawn to the wrought iron front door. It opened just as I reached it to reveal James Milan, dripping wet in a towel. Oh man this was perfect. I grinned when I saw him.

"Well hello." He smirked, looking me over. He was so preoccupied he didn't notice Jasper slip in through the gates before they closed.

"Hello, Mr Milan." I began, but he cut me off before I had a chance to continue.

"Please, call me daddy." He opened the door wider. "And come... inside."

My grin widened, but that was simply the result of trying not to laugh in his face. He was half the man Jasper was. But regardless, I had to play the character of horny little Laura, and not murderous little Alice. So I bit my lip, and slid into the house, James not far behind.

The house was huge, black floors and red walls with chandeliers everywhere. A modernly square staircase lined the one wall, showing a living room in the back.

"So, daddy," I said as sultrily as I could, while turning around to see the ripped superstar, "where do you keep your jewels?"

"Upstairs." James replied, taking me by the small of my back. Slowly, but surely, it slid down to my butt, and squeezed. Now normally I would have punched him in the face, but since he wasn't going to make it through the night I decided not to bother.

"Someones frisky." I giggled. He laughed, a forced chalky sound. All boys just want one thing. We got to the top of the stairs, and he led me into a dark bedroom. Low lights flicked on. James came up behind me and put his hands on my hips.

"Now lets get to business." James chuckled.

"Right." I replied brusquely. "Now, Bennett Jewelers is offering a great deal for the care and replacement of any diamonds, jewels, gold plates, and silver plates, as well as the purchase of new diamonds."

James looked a little flabbergasted. "Huh?"

"The diamonds, Mr Milan. We're talking about diamonds." I said coldly, and pulled a folder of paper out from under my arm. "If you'll sign, the deal will be done, and we can move on to other activities."

James scratched his head and took the papers, only reading the title of the first one. The one that read 'Lifetime Guarantee'. "You really came up here for business?" He asked with a sigh.

"Partly." I replied with a smile, and innocently ran a finger down the neckline of my dress. James grinned.

"If I sign this we'll fuck, right?" He asked. Well, that was straight forward.

"Definitely."

James grabbed a pen off of the desk in the corner and scribbled a signature on every line in the stack of paper. Little did he know he was sealing his own fate. James was, after all, signing the forms for his own funeral prearrangement's. And more than that, Jasper had gotten my signal. Definitely.

"There." James said. He handed me the papers. I took them, and set them in the briefcase. "Would you like to take a shower, Laura?"

I nodded, smiling again. "A shower would be to die for right now."

He took my hand and pulled me into the big steamy bathroom across the hall, walking backwards. I let him flick the light on, and laughed out loud when I saw the tall blond man standing in the shower behind James.

"What's so funny, Laura?" James asked, laughing as well. It was then that he caught sight of Jasper in the mirror. Before James could do anything, Jasper swung a baseball bat into his spine, splitting his vertebrae, rendering him paralyzed.

"What's funny," I said with a giddy grin, "is that my name is Alice."

--

Jasper and I made it look really natural. We lifted the immobile James up by his underarms, stood him in the shower, and then pushed him forward. He knocked his head off the corner of the counter and bled everywhere. Then we positioned his legs so the vertebrae separation looked natural.

After that it was all clean up. First, we got rid of all physical evidence that we'd even been there, except for the yellow copy of the funeral arrangements in his will. Second, we erased all video tape of ourselves, and the past six weeks so it looked like an unfortunate mistake on the security companies part. Finally, we went home.

And that was that. By the time we got home, I was in shock.

"Jasper." I whispered when we were in the garage. "We just killed a man."

He was silent, staring straight ahead at the little door that led to the basement. His skin was looking even paler than usual, and a little sweaty.

"I know." He finally said, and looked at me a little stiffly. "I...I... thought it..."

"Was fun?" I suggested. He nodded palely, and swallowed hard. "Me too."

"Okay." Jasper said. There was another silent moment. "You look good in that dress."

I blushed. "Thank you."

--

And that was that. We didn't speak about James until a call came to the next day saying we had a big funeral to prepare for. The home was swamped with people three days later, all mourning over James Milan. His funeral was proclaimed in tabloids, and the tragedy made an obsessed fan off herself, but she lived in Houston.

During the funeral I saw Jasper across the room, helping James mother away from the gleaming white casket.

"Who ever killed him is going to die!" She exclaimed. "Die a horrid, horrid death!"

My heart went cold at her words, but I didn't show it.

"Ms Milan," Jasper said in the familiar griefless voice that came with funeral directors, "if it's any consolation, your son went peacefully, and quickly."

Ms Milan burst into tears. Her husband took a hold of her, and pet her hair.

"Are you sure?" He asked.

Jasper nodded. "Certain. He felt no pain."

But I knew that was a lie. His last moments were excruciating. First with his spine, and then his brain. Once again, I felt nothing for the family.

Instead, I was filled with surpressed glee. Once again, there was money in our bank, and food in the fridge. Turning my back on the funeral, I looked at the casket, at the cold white face of my first victim.

And it was a feeling I could get used to.

* * *

**_A/N: HAPPY EASTER! And review!!!!_**


	4. I'm Restarting This Story, Lovely People

LIFE WITHOUT THIS STORY IS HELL.

I'M UPDATING IT IN THE NEAR FUTURE.

LOVE YOU ALL, SORRY FOR BEING A BITCH.

STEVIE.

:D


	5. Spiderweb

_Hey, so I want to tell you all I feel bad for letting this one go. I intend to continue it and I want to say sorry if you hate me. This is a lemon because I think they deserve one for being gone so long and I'm horny as fuck. _

_Belongs to SM, blah blah blah._

**Spiderweb**

Morning light poured onto the breakfast table and fell over my picked apart eggs and steaming coffee. I played with my fork idly while I stared at the tabloid in front of me. In the center of the page was a glossy photo of Victoria Grand, the scorned girlfriend of James Milan. She had huge bags under her eyes and a tear rolling down her cheek, but she didn't look half as bad as she did at his funeral. The must have airbrushed her freckles right off. Beneath her was a string of seven other beautiful women, all in different glamorous poses. They were James mistresses, the ones who'd come out once he was six feet under. The tabloids were still bleeding Milan, though he'd died nearly a month earlier. At first they had spoken about the tragedy and his work, a beautiful funeral at the riverside and who got to take his cat. Then the tabloids had turned on him. Sex addiction, drug addiction, missing games and shoots to go out and binge drink. Two men had confessed to his murder, were taken to jail, and then set free when the coroner claimed it to be an accidental overdose on anti-depressants that led to him fall down while taking a leak.

"Morning, beautiful," Jasper said as he walked into the kitchen. He scratched his neck and started rooting around for cereal. I set the tabloid down, a grin growing on my face. "I'm surprised you can walk after last night."

I laughed and got up. He was so cocky after he did the do right. It didn't matter to me, but truthfully he was a little lame in the sack. It didn't mean I didn't love him though. The night before had been an unexpected treat. He'd crawled into bed after spending all night doing something weird in his study and turned off the TV we'd bought from James flower arrangements. I'd been mad because I was watching The Office, but he'd managed to distract me. It was what I called a UFO; an unexpected fornication outburst. Jasper always did that when he had a good idea.

"Oh yes, I think my spleen is bleeding." I stepped around him and gave him a hug from behind, resting my head on his shoulder. "Are you ready for tonight?"

Jasper took out a box of Trix and a bowl. "I suppose so. Do we really have to have the whole family over?"

Jasper didn't like it when the family came to the house. Sure, it was a mansion in a nice neighbourhood filled with antiques, but his adoptive family was rich and they were always trying to pay for improvements. The paint was chipping and the porch was falling in, both things we were getting fixed with James money. He'd wanted the casket with the gold plating, which meant that I got the parlour reupholstered. I loved his family. His sister, Rosalie, and her husband Emmett had a little boy named Henry, and his brother Edward and his wife Bella had a little girl named Nessie. Whenever his mom came over, she cleaned my kitchen and told me about books her club had read. His dad had a thing for paintings, so he was constantly given us money to add more to the funeral homes walls.

Jasper loved them too, but their appearances always had him wound tighter than a nun. Not only that, but his up and coming 'hobby' seemed to be weighing heavy on his conscious with the thought of them.

"You know, Carlisle has a lot of money..." I trailed off.

Jasper snorted and turned around. "He has prearrangement's back in Port Angeles. And he's my dad."

"Damn!"

This was becoming a new game of ours. Name the millionaire and decide whether they're worth it. It had been a happy four weeks since James. There had been a seven car pile up and nine people had died. Four of them had come to Riverbend Funeral Home, even though there were only two staff members.

"What about Mick Jagger?" I trailed a finger up his chest and stepped a little closer. "He has lots of money."

"And a very high profile. Too high for us." Jasper ran his hand down the back of my neck and pulled me closer. He was wearing nothing but his Donald Duck boxers, leaving nothing but abs and soft pale skin for my eyes. "We need people who are rich and out of the spotlight."

"Yeah?" I said passively, dragging my hand lower and lower, playing with his waistband. "And how would we handle these people?"

"Well," he began, ignoring my hand, "first we'd find out about them like we did with James. You know, where they live and their schedule. How the camera's in their house work and what would kill them in their house."

My heart was fluttering. God, I loved it when he talked murder to me. I felt his hips and led my hand upwards, running them off his lower stomach. His muscles contracted and he took a shaky breath, "Who and how, Jasper?"

He swallowed. "Mary Dawson. She's a CEO at Oxford Pickles. I'd turn off the camera's and hang her from the railing."

Everything in me seemed to be pounding. I slid my fingertips over his junk and then put both of my hands into his boxers. He was rock hard and so big. It was a shame he had the stamina of a thirteen year old. That didn't matter. I wasn't doing this for me. He needed to relax. His family was stressing him out.

"Is she hot?"

He coughed. "Wh-what?"

"Mary Dawson. Would you fuck her?" There it was. His 'my wife is dirty and I like it face'. That was the name I'd given it as a place holder until I found something better, but nothing shorter ever seemed to come along. It didn't matter though. What mattered was that Jasper liked it when I was dirty.

"She's... all right, I guess." He took another uneven breath. "But I wouldn't have sex with her."

"Get on the counter," I ordered. He slid up onto it without pausing and I started to kiss all down his chest until I was at his waistband. He was breathing hard, fingers twitching. I made a show of getting on my knees, legs spread slightly apart. He could see down my tank top.

"Alice..." I ran my bottom lip over the hard bump in his boxers and he twitched all through his hips. "You don't have to." I did it again, but with more pressure. He didn't fight me when I pulled the Donald's down and ran my teeth over his cock lightly. "A-Alice, really."

"I want to," I pleaded. "Please let me suck you. Please?"

Jasper closed his eyes. The bridge of his nose was red, a sure sign that he was horny. "Get it over with."

My mouth found him again and I got to work. At first he resisted, like always, and tried to make it look like he was in pain. I could almost hear the baseball statistics roll out of his mouth. There was only one way to get him to participate. My hand ran down into my pajama bottoms and I moaned around him. That got his attention. I wasn't actually doing anything, but I'm a bit of an expert at faking. I rubbed at my underwear weakly, putting the real effort into my mouth, and kept on moaning like a porn star, sliding my tongue up and down. Jasper's hands wove into my hair and he helped with my rhythm, panting. I could feel his eyes on me. I always could tell when he was looking. It made me press a little harder on my underwear. My moan was real.

I rubbed all around where my mouth wouldn't reach while my free hand slid inside my underwear. I was getting myself wet and there was pressure starting in my stomach. I sort of wanted to stop blowing him and finish myself off, but instead I let myself go and worked harder on getting him to come.

Before I knew it, he was shaking and gripping at the counter, gasping. I choked down his man gravy dutifully, praying for it to stay down. Semen tastes like something you'd expect human excretions to taste. Gross. But apparently guys find it hot when you swallow, so I did. Jasper was sweaty and gasping when I slid his boxers back on and wiped my mouth. The clock said he'd lasted about four minutes, which wasn't bad. He never lasted long with blow jobs. I helped him down from the counter and he stretched before giving me a hug.

"You're an angel," he said, which was a little bizarre. He looked content, wearing a smile that clearly stated he'd won something. Suddenly he picked me up and I was on the counter. His mouth found mine and he licked my lips. I wasn't expecting it. His fingers found my sweet spot and I hadn't even known they were in my pants. I arched my back, unintentionally shoving my tits in his face, and moaned. "Do you like that? Do you like getting fucked by a big, bad murderer?"

I panted out something agreeable. He was talking dirty. I liked it too.

"You were touching yourself when you sucked me off, weren't you?" I nodded and turned my hips, grinding those fingers in farther. He curved them and started pumping in and out. My pants fell down and he spread my legs wider. "Dirty, dirty little Alice. My poor, dirty Alice. Married to a fucking murderer."

I put my arms around his neck. There was no denying I was in heaven. I wanted more. Dirtier words, more fingers, more dead bodies in the basement, more of him in my mouth. "Harder, Jazz, harder," I managed. His fingers were so long...

His hands came out, glistening in the morning light, and pushed me back flat on the counter. The Trix went flying and I heard it shower across the floor. He lifted my shirt off and I was completely naked, hanging half on, half off the kitchen island counter. Jasper disappeared and I felt him going at me with his mouth. He used his tongue. It wasn't fair. I went crazy for that and he knew it. I didn't last long with him tongue-fucking me. I never did. My back curved and I cried out a mix between his name and the word 'Cheeze-It's'. That was the last of me.

He slid up my body, face red. "That was hot," he said shakily.

I laughed and sat up. My spine hurt a little bit. Something clattered to the counter. There was a spoon stuck to my back. "Thanks Paris." He helped me down and my step was a little uneven.

"Paris Hilton is a good one," Jasper said. "I'd choose a car accident."

Jasper had a thing for Paris Hilton. And I don't mean an "I'd hit that" thing. Apparently he had things for a lot of people, and they were slowly leaking out the more comfortable we got.

"Hey, I want to show you something," Jasper said. He was excited, which was normal for him after sex, as well as proud. "I think you'll like it."

I grabbed my shirt off the counter. "All right, but you're cleaning this up."

He rolled his eyes, pulled up my pants for me, and then took my hand. "Whatever you say, just come look."

***

I was shocked. More than shocked, actually. I was amazed.

"Well, do you like it?"

Jasper was nervous. I could see that plain as day. The boy really couldn't hold back emotions well. He was standing a little behind me, holding the leather office chair. I was sitting in the chair, looking at a large piece of paper with different markings all around it. From far away the lines looked like a spiderweb, an octagon inside an octagon inside an octagon. But up close, I could see it was a map of different mansions, the houses circled, numbered, and dated. There were names, stats, and causes. In all, There were forty houses, all numbered differently. Five octagons.

"Jasper, what is this?"

He swallowed hard. "It's our pattern. All, you know, serial killers have some sort of method. I thought we could be like spiders, and these people are the fly's in our web. If it's dumb, I can burn it."

"No, it's brilliant," I said. My heart was beating fast again. The numbers and the dates were so spread apart, well thought out, it would be hard to make any sense of it. And with James business, it wouldn't be so weird to get a little higher profile customers...

"We have numbers 7 and 34 booked for prearrangement's. They live nearly twelve blocks from each other, one is a young women, the other an old man. No attachments, no big surprise."

I bit my lip, reading over the map. "Forty people in the same neighbourhood, all coming to our funeral home... I don't know, Jasper."

He slid the map closer to him. "That's just it. It isn't one big neighbourhood. It's seventeen separate neighbourhoods. No one will suspect a thing!"

In my heart, I knew I should have torn the map up and burnt it right there and then. It was evidence, a plot to murder forty different people. But something was going wrong in my head. I was seeing red. There was nothing but money and blood and that primal instinct that told me foreclosure would come again. James had kept it at bay, but things like that never stayed away. We needed the money. My eyes followed the thick lines my husband had drawn so carefully. A spiderweb, so perfectly simple. I took the marker and conected all of the corners with spokes, adding my hand to the plan. To the evidence.

We were in this together, my love and I.

***

The clock rang out in the lobby, tolling six times, thirteen minutes before our guests arrived. It was a two hour drive from Forks to the city, but the Cullen family made the trip anyways, always eager to check in on the morticians. I was pulling a roast out of the oven when they knocked. Jasper put down the knife he was using to chop cucumber on the sterilized counter and answered the door. We hadn't spoken about the map all day. It was hidden in the bottom drawer of an old filing cabinet upstairs in the attic. Instead we'd talked about dinner.

The table was set in the dining room that looked over the river behind the staircase. All doors that led to the dead body in the basement were locked to keep curious little Henry upstairs. He'd snuck away once when he was five and walked in on his uncle Jasper stitching a mans throat back together. It was Emmett's fault for driving too fast.

"Jasper, baby!" Esme called.

"Hey mom," he said.

I set the roast on the stove and took my mitts off, straightening my blouse. I had wanted to wear a dress, but the only clean ones I could find were the one stained with puke and the one I'd helped kill James in. They were all there at the same time. Emmett was complaining about traffic to Carlisle, Bella was staring at my floral arrangement while Edward undid Nessie's boots, Rosalie was taking off Henry's coat, and Esme was squeezing the life out of Jasper. They were all so normal and full of life. They never ceased to make me feel creepy.

"Alice, that smells delicious!" Esme cried, and let Jasper go and came after me. I smiled and took the hug graciously.

Rosalie moved onto hugging Jasper and a sort of family hug line started. Eight year old Henry went straight for the bowl of funeral home candy and two year old Reneesme waddled around like babies do. Reneesme... what an awful name for a child. It almost made me want to decipitate Bella and her air-headed husband. Emmett engulfed me in a bear hug and I couldn't help but laugh. And then I heard something and the laugh died.

"Uncle Jasper," Henry was asking. "Do you and Aunt Alice kill the people downstairs?"

* * *

_AN: That's the first of the rest. Next? Dinner with the family and Moy-dah most foul! I liked this lemon :)_


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